40 Days On The Home Straight
by High-On-Melancholy-Pills
Summary: A collection of Mondler drabbles. Alternating perspectives. Forty drabbles because we're going to pretend it's 2009 and Monica has just turned 40. So Chandler's 41... dear God, I haven't thought this out very well. Read it anyway; they're good. Promise.
1. 1 Little Miracle

A/N: Hey there! Before you all stop and go "woah, who the hell is this?" I just want to say I've been a stalker of Fanfiction for many, many years now and have also been a member for at least three of those years. I just change my name and delete my old stories every now and again. So anyway, I've been getting the feels for Mondler lately which has resulted in, well, _this_. You know the score, somewhere between 100 and 200 words per chapter whenever I have the patience. See you at the end of the 40th drabble!

**1 Little Miracle.**

"He's beautiful, Nora," the pool-boy whispered. Any other adult would have disregarded the young boy's statement without a second thought, but what he lacked in years he made up for in experience. He had never worked for such a pleasant and deserving couple. They longed for a baby to spoil – "only the best for our little Channy," as Charles proudly proclaimed. They had waited for a toddler to teach to walk, each little step bringing a joy to their parents' gleaming faces. But most of all they wished for a child to tuck up in bed each night and share fantastic stories of kings and knights and wonderful things. Every one of those stories would end in a happily ever after – because after all, it's exactly what the Bings had right now.


	2. 2 Dozen Eggs

**2 Dozen Eggs.**

"Do you know what day it is tomorrow, Monica?" Jack crouched down until he was eye-to-eye with his two year old daughter. She looked confused as she racked her brains, never really caring unless it was her birthday and/or Christmas. And she still didn't know when they were.

"I don't know, Daddy," she said miserably, her chubby fingers curling into small, frustrated fists. Jack smiled fondly.

"It's Easter. You know what that means, don't you?"

"Doclate!" Monica shouted, jumping up and down in excitement as she unclenched her fists to clap.

"That's right honey, chocolate," Jack laughed as he put his hands on her shoulders to steady her. "How many eggs do you think you and Ross will have to find tomorrow?"

"A hundred eggs!" She shouted again, looking around frantically to see if she could see her brother anywhere to tell him the good news.

"Maybe not one hundred," Jack laughed, lifting her up as he stood. "How about two dozen?" A large grin appeared on Monica's face, assuming a dozen meant more eggs than Ross. "Come on Kiddo, the Easter Bunny only visits while you sleep."

"It's Easter tomorrow, Daddy," Monica said, suddenly very sleepy.


	3. 3 Wheeled Bicycle

**3-Wheeled Bicycle.**

Chandler gripped the handlebars with his small hands, the concentration showing in his face. He wanted to show his parents how grown-up he was now. "No tears Chandler," he whispered to himself as he gingerly lifted his feet from the ground and onto the small rubber pedals. The shiny red contraption had been a present from his parents. He wasn't sure what he'd earned it for – but he wasn't going to complain. He liked to sit outside on his little wooden stool and look at his tricycle. He knew if he sat on it he might end up hurt – Chandler did _not_ like getting hurt. It was only when his father insisted he ride it did he attempt to sit on it. He had to admit, it wasn't as bad as he imagined. It was exciting and made him feel cooler than a Marvel hero. He began to pedal, looking back over his shoulder as he realised he'd run over his mother's daisies. Instead of seeing anger in her eyes, he saw happiness.

"Go Chandler!" His father shouted as his mother gave him a double thumbs-up. He could do it. He could ride a bicycle. Now he could do anything.


	4. 4 Times Lucky

**4 Times Lucky.**

Monica sat in the hall, cross-legged and pouting. Just five minutes ago she'd been outside in the sun, having fun with the rest of the Geller family until Ross _had_ to go and spoil it for her. He got in the way of every ball she attempted to kick into their make-shift goal. To make it worse, her parents even cheered him on. After the third time she was so exasperated she threw the ball directly at his head before running back into the house, ignoring her parents' angry shouts. She was determined not to cry – instead enviously peeking out of the window. To her surprise she came face to face with her brother as he opened the door.

"Come outside Monica!" He smiled, grabbing her by the hand. "We were having fun."

"No, _you_ were having fun," Monica mumbled, pulling her hand away. "You wouldn't let me play."

"No Monica, that _is_ how you play," Ross laughed fondly. "You have to get it past me."

"Oh," Monica said, looking up at him. She didn't like admitting she was wrong.

"Fourth time lucky?"

"Okay!" Monica took his hand once again as they both ran outside together, resuming their game.


	5. 5 Gold Rings

**A/N: No, no, we're not at the end of the 40****th**** chapter. If I was I think I'd cry – I'm having so much fun coming up with these! I thought at first "hey, you don't need me rambling on 40 times over", so I won't. I feel though I should be publically thanking the viewers as well as my reviewers – I never knew this'd be so well-received! Thank you to WendyCR72 – some of the quickest reviewing I've seen in my life. Also thank you to Cynthia Salander – your review was so in-depth and really inflated my ego, muahaha! Just kidding… sort of. But yeah, I appreciate every one of your views, reviews, favourites and whatever else you've got! Anyway, at this rate this note will be longer than the story itself, so I'll let you get on…**

**5 Gold Rings**

Nora Bing stood over a box labelled "Christmas Decorations" with her hands on her hips. "I wonder where Channy is?" She said loudly, hearing a small giggle escape from one of the boxes. If you listened closely you could hear the sound of a small boy trying to hold in his laughter. "Chandler?"

"Surprise Mommy!" Chandler shouted as his head popped out of the box. "Here I am!" Nora laughed and act shocked as he smiled, content that he'd rattled his mother. He'd fashioned a tinsel headdress, hooked baubles onto his fingers and placed a 12 Days of Christmas ornament over each ear.

"Chandler! I had no idea you were in there," Nora shook her head, making him smile even more. Her smile dropped suddenly, noticing the decorations. "Take those hoops off darling, you look like your-" she stopped, realising what she was saying. "Nevermind."

" Mommy?" Chandler asked in a confused manner.

"Yes, dear?" She replied, not wanting to sound nervous about the approaching question.

"What _are_ the 12 Days of Christmas?" Nora smiled, breathing out a sigh of relief.

"Shall I tell you a story?" She began, lifting Chandler onto her lap as they sunk into the couch.


	6. 6 Teaspoons Of Golden Syrup

**A/N: Me again! I just wanted to say a few things here. One, this drabble is over 200 words, so it's now gone from "less than 100 words" to "between 100-200" and (hopefully) finally, "however many words I can get away with." So orthodox. Second thing, thanks so much for your reviews, they mean a lot to me and spurs me on, so thanks for that. Thirdly, I've never made gingerbread men, so I don't know if this recipe is right or not as I nicked it from Google :). See you later my cool babies!**

**6 Teaspoons of Golden Syrup**

Monica stood at the kitchen counter, a small wooden stool supporting the small child who was barely tall enough to see over the unit alone. She may have been on the chubby side but she still lacked in height, though her small body contained more enthusiasm than the average man.

"One cup of flour…" she muttered to herself, sticking her tongue out as she plunged her arm deep into the bag of flour. Just a few weeks ago she had been doing the same thing – baking gingerbread men. This time however she wasn't using her Easy Bake. She preferred ingredients that didn't come in dry packets. She loved to watch her mother bake, but sadly she was often too busy with this or that to pay attention to Monica. Instead, she took to climbing work-tops and beating mixture until her arms gave out, only calling for her father, or sometimes even Ross, when she needed to use the oven.

"Six teaspoons of golden syrup…" she read aloud from the book, unsure of what a teaspoon was. She shrugged and picked up a small spoon, dunking it into the teapot as she walked past. While she loved precision, she didn't mind if her gingerbread men were less than perfect, because friends just don't mind.


	7. 7 Hour Flight

**7 Hour Flight.**

Chandler was bored. Very bored. He was flying with his parents over to Portugal to promote his mother's latest book. He hadn't really gotten to grasp with his mother's fame – to him, she was his mother and that was that. To the rest of the world though, including almost everyone on the plane, she was a star and they were merely crazed fans. As soon as it was safe to undo their seatbelts, a small huddle gathered around Mrs. Bing.

"Nora, Nora!" One rather large woman shouted, waving her hand wildly. "I'm a big fan…" Chandler rolled his eyes and shrunk into his seat, wishing they would stop crowding them. He longed for the stern flight attendant to send them away, but to his horror he smiled and greeted Nora as if she was an old friend. Chandler turned around in his seat, peeking around the growing queue. His father had gone to the bathroom, but he seemed to be taking a while. Chandler started to panic and tapped his mother on the shoulder.

"Mommy, where's dad?"

"Not now, sweetie…" she smiled as she said it, but it wasn't aimed at Chandler. She was keeping her fans happy as usual. After all, no fans mean no income. Before he got too upset however, he heard a familiar whistle amongst the crowd.

"Dad!" Chandler cried, smiling at the man trying to force his way back to his seat.

"Hey, Channy," he said hesitantly, eyeing up the gathering. "Tell you what, let's go over there and look out of the window, okay? See what planes we can find." Chandler nodded excitedly, taking his father's hand while getting a feeling his mother hadn't even noticed.

"Oh Charles, I wish you'd act like a grown man, you're embarrassing me!" Maybe she had noticed.

"At least we're enjoying ourselves, aren't we Channy?" Chandler nodded, poking his tongue out at his mother. He'd be scolded for it later, but it didn't matter for now. He was spending time with his dad and that's all he cared about.

**A/N: Oh boy, these things are certainly growing. And I don't just mean the chapters! *Badumtss.*  
More updates to follow obviously, so for now keep reading, reviewing but most importantly enjoying yourself!**


	8. 8 Iced Cupcakes

**A/N: I apologise so very much for not uploading anything for a few days. I've had serious writers' block with this chapter – they're that weird age where you can't have them play with their Easy Bake, but you can't make them kiss yet either. Hmmph. So uh, I actually have no plans for this chapter. I thought of an idea earlier, but I've realised if I wrote it Monica would sound like a very backwards child. The chapter you're about to read however is something I had played about with, but never liked anything I wrote. But I just want to get past this God damn chapter and write Chandler's Thanksgiving. Dun dun dun… Anyway, once again thanks for reading, reviewing and enjoying!**

**8 Iced Cupcakes**

Monica opened her lunch bag. Her mother had packed her lunch, like she did every day. She didn't trust Monica alone with the fridge – "you'd take the whole damn turkey!" she'd frequently remind her. That always upset Monica – her mother constantly made her out to be a greedy little child, but it wasn't true. She liked food but lacked confidence and self-control, resulting in a bad combination. The eight-year-old blinked back her tears and shook her hair out of her face, before peering in her bag. She saw the usual sandwich, fruit, biscuit bar and juice box that was in there every day, but today she saw the bag was a lot fuller. She delved into the bottom and pulled out a small plastic container. Inside was the cupcakes Monica had baked the day before and given to her mother as a present. Now her mother had given them back, complete with a small Post-It on top labelled "Make some friends – Mom xx". Monica quickly shoved them back into her bag. She was far from hated, but she still saw the occasional glance or whispered snide remark about her protruding stomach. She didn't want to give them any more reason to pick on her.

She took a small bite out of her sandwich and thought about the cupcakes again. She always thought she had friends, but looking around the classroom made her think otherwise. Groups of girls and groups of boys, sometimes even girls-and-boys, had their own space where they pushed their desks together at lunch. They'd never asked Monica to join. Perhaps they thought she was happy where she was? She looked on either side of her – an empty desk and a Russian kid who barely understood the English language, let alone speak it. She sighed and gave him a smile, which he returned while sprouting words using sounds Monica didn't even know existed. She put her sandwich down and took out a cupcake, placing one on his desk. Monica wasn't the type of person to complain about only having one friend, but she vowed to herself to never give up trying.


End file.
